


No Walls

by HeavenlyDisaster



Series: The Wolf and the Bull [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Gendrya - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, SMUTTY SMUT, Smut, maybe too much angst, the smuttiest smut to ever smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenlyDisaster/pseuds/HeavenlyDisaster
Summary: Arya is through living by gods and crowns.  She's leaving Westeros for a new adventure, but an old adventure keeps calling to her.....





	No Walls

She knew any ship that was sailing into the unknown would have to be built special.  Bran was even able to give her a bit of insight as to what sorts of dangers to expect on the open sea.  Little things that she knew would make all the difference.  The wolf on the hull was a personal touch she hadn’t thought to add until she saw the builders crafting a naked woman for the spot.  Her men learned quick not to cross the wolf.

They planned to stop along the ports to stock up on supplies.  King’s Landing was down to tethers as it struggled to rebuild in the wake of a dragon.  A few stops on the coast before setting sail would be good to adjust her sea legs.  She’d never captained a ship before herself so it was good practice in that aspect as well.

They sailed for four days away from King’s Landing.  The bend around Massey’s Hook took the longest as the winds went against them for just a moment.  Then, it was smooth sailing down to Shipbreaker Bay.  Arya spent all her time on deck.  She slept a rare hour every now and again, but her cabin hardly knew her.

“Two ports coming up, Captain.” Moryn, her first mate told her.

“Which two?” She asked.  She’d glanced at the map, but her mind had focused ahead.  Oldtown was to be their last stop in Westeros.

“Evenfall Hall’s port and Storm’s End.  If I may, I recommend Evenfall Hall.  Shipbreaker Bay got its name at the port of Storm’s End.  Many a ship has been lost there.”

Arya looked out to the coast off in the distance.  She could make out the island of Tarth where Ser Brienne had been born and raised and even trained.  Beyond that, still just a dark line on the horizon, was Storm’s End.  Her stomach turned over as Gendry’s face popped into her head.  She could see his sea blue eyes in every wave they broke. 

He’d been at the meeting of the council.  Before they’d crowned Bran.  There was a part of her that expected him to corner her.  To try and talk to her.  To say anything.  Scream at her for using him.  For toying with him the way she had.  The way she _knew_ she had.  If any man had done what she had done to him to her she’d kill him without hesitation.  Instead, Gendry had sat mostly quietly.  He had voted her brother king.  He had looked at her without animosity.  And he had looked… good.  There was no way around it.  He’d looked good.  Good enough to take into another storeroom.

If she went to him at Storm’s End, he might turn her away.  If he didn’t she would only break his heart more.  She knew that.  _Does it matter_?  The most selfish part of her whispered.  _You’ll never return again.  One last romp?_

Arya looked at Moryn, still waiting for her comman.  “Evenfall Hall it is.”

Moryn gave her a nod and hurried to command the sailors into their tasks.  Arya shoved at her needing.  Her longing.  She would not be selfish.  Gendry deserved better.  He deserved the world.  Maybe she could find a dragon and hatch it for him.  Or maybe she’d find something even better.  Something she could send back to him as an apology of sorts.  Anything at all.

Arya remembered the sack once again.  Being at sea the past few days had been a reprieve.  All the water made it easier to forget the raining fire.  The melting rock.  The stench of smoke wafting up from burnt corpses.  She would do well to be rid of Westeros forever.  Or, as close to forever as she could get.

Tarth rose up around them.  It was more yellow than Arya had thought it to be.  The rock was more golden than grey.  It was an odd shade unlike most sea stone.  Evenfall Hall mounted even higher.  That stone was more red than yellow and more grey than red.  She frowned up at it.  It looked almost as bad as the Red Keep.  The walls were broken.  Some parts no more than rubble.  Arya waited until the ship grew closer.

Moryn came back to her side.  Arya looked down at him with a frown.  She already knew what he was going to say.

“Tarth’s port has been destroyed, Captain.” He said apologetically.  “From the looks I’d have to say it was the Iron Fleet that did it.”

Arya chewed her lip.  It would seem the gods had still more plans for her.  She looked to Storm’s End again.  It was closer now.  Larger.  All black rock and mean waves.  The singular tower of the holdfast punched the sky like a mad drunkard.  Slightly to the east, the port sat quietly among masts of ships so small yet they were little more than needles floating in the water.

“Storm’s End then.”  She said.

Moryn looked like he wanted to argue.  He stared at her face hesitantly for a good while before moving off to his work.  The men turned the ship away from Tarth.  Arya looked down at the broken ships as they went.  She toyed with the pommel of Needle at her hip. 

_I could stay on the ship.  Let the men fetch what we need._   She thought.  _There’s really no reason I need to see him._

The ship docked at Storm’s End’s port.  She could smell the fish from the market heavy in the air.  There’d be plenty of fish to catch at sea.  Bran had seen to a drag net being fixed to her ship for when food grew scarce.  At the ports, Arya was only interested in fruits and animals.  Sheep, pigs, chickens, all to be kept in a hold below deck.

Arya made her way down the gangplank and into the port town.  People looked at her curiously.  She was still a woman and women did not often captain ships.  She had a cursory thought of Yara Greyjoy being subjected to such curious stares. 

“We’ll stay in port tonight and set out again on the tide tomorrow.” Arya told Moryn. 

“Only the one night, Captain?  We might recruit more men if we wait another day or two.” He suggested.

Arya looked at her first mate wordlessly.  He withered under her stare.  “Of course, Captain, I’ll tell the men to be ready on the morrow.”  And he disappeared.

Arya borrowed a horse from the inn on the edge of the port.  It was a skinny little brown thing that hopped every few steps as if mice were skittering under its feet.  Arya grew tired of its skittish behavior within minutes and pushed it into a gallop.  It didn’t skitter then.  It ran as smoothly as any mount and for that she was grateful.

When they slowed, the horse didn’t hop again.  It walked evenly up to the gates of the holdfast.  Arya smiled serenely at the Baratheon banners hanging from the walls.  Black stags on yellow fields.  A guard approached her holding a spear.  She leaned back in her saddle.

“What business have you here?” The gruff guard demanded.

Arya looked through the gates into the holdfast.  Her stomach fluttered excitedly.  “I’m here to see your lord.” 

“My lord is expecting no visitors.”  The guards replied.

“Tell him the wolf is here.” Arya told the guard, her horse jittered beneath her, growing restless again now that they were standing still.

The guard shook his head.  “He has no time for wolves or women.”

Arya snatched her dagger from her hip and pressed the tip of it to the guard’s throat kicking his spear out of his hand as she did.  She turned to the other one and smiled.  “Tell your lord the wolf is here.  Tell him she’s got her fang on one of his guards.”

The other guard stared wide eyed between her and his friend.  Hurriedly, the man ran off to do as she bid.  His heavy armor clanking all the way.  Curiously, she did not see him enter the castle.  Instead, he veered off into the yard.  Arya looked back down at the guard with Cat’s Paw at his neck.

“You know if he goes for help you’re dead.”

The man snarled at her.  She saw his hand grabbing for the sword on his hip.  She pulled her foot out of her stirrup and set it on his sword hand.

“You don’t want to do that.” She told him.

“Arya?”

She looked up.  He was filthy.  Blacksmith filthy.  And out of breath.  Arya flipped her dagger back in her hand and stowed it away in its sheath.  She hadn’t even worked out what she should say.

“My Lord.” She greeted.

Gendry looked at his guardsmen.  He waved them away.  “It’s alright.  She’s a friend.”

Arya dismounted, glad to be rid of the squirrely beast.  Someone led it away to the stables as she stepped within the deep walls of the holdfast.  Gendry walked with her to the yard.  He didn’t say anything which left it to her. 

“I’ve stopped my ship at your port to restock.”  She explained.

Gendry frowned.  “Restock?  Didn’t you come from King’s Landing?”

Arya nodded.  “I need enough stock to last up to a year I think.  I don’t expect to find anything until then otherwise our maps would be bigger.” 

Gendry was quiet.  He was never this quiet with her.  She chewed at her lip some more.  He _must_ hate her.  She looked up at the tower.  From the base you couldn’t see the top.  It was just a long, black arm reaching into the stormy, grey clouds.  She started for the door to what she assumed would be Round Hall.

“Oh, you don’t want to go in there.” Gendry told her.

She stopped and frowned back at him.  “I’d like to see your castle, My Lord.”

Gendry grimaced and looked at his feet.  “Doesn’t look anything like Winterfell’s castle.  It’s….”  Gendry shrugged.

Arya shook her head at him and pushed the door open.  She squinted in the sudden darkness.  There were no torches going in the foyer and there were no windows to let in light.  She walked forward, feeling with her feet for any misplaced stones or sudden steps.  She listened for walls just as she did in Braavos when the Many Faced God had taken her eyes.

A hand grabbed her elbow and Arya twisted and struck.  She heard Gendry give a cry more of indignation than of pain.  He grabbed her elbow again and pulled her into a hall that was brighter than the foyer, but still dark.

“You should have torches burning for light.  And where are your servants?  Are the guards at your gate your only guardsmen?  Where are the rest?  And your castellan?  Where’s he?  The port is full of people, yet your castle is as good as deserted.”  She was speaking as she was turning around the monstrous hall.  Large enough to put Winterfell’s to shame, but still smaller than Harrenhal’s.  And empty.

She stopped talking as she faced Gendry again and saw his face.  Even in the low light she could see how flushed he was with anger and embarrassment.  She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed.

“Well, it has been pretty busy.  You haven’t had the chance to get everything sorted yet, I’d figure.”

Gendry scoffed.  “Don’t do that.”

Arya frowned at him.  “Don’t do what?”

“I don’t need your platitudes.  Never have.  I told you I’d be a shit lord.  I told you I didn’t know what I was doing.  I wasn’t raised to oversee holdfasts or attend council meetings or do anything important.  I was raised a bastard to die a bastard.  So I don’t need you to swoop in here and try to make everything okay.  Dying a lord is already a high enough honor.”  Gendry said with no shortage of bitterness in each of his words.

“I wasn’t trying to –”

“Doesn’t matter what you were _trying_ to do.  Alright?  I get it.”  He said loudly enough that his words echoed off the high, empty walls.  Thunder threatening a storm.  _Ours is the fury_.

Gendry waved off her attempt at more words.  He turned his back to her and crossed his arms over his chest to stare at the barren head table.

_I knew it.  He does hate me_. 

“What I don’t get is what you’re doing here.”  He said after a minute.  “There are hundreds of ports around you could stop at.  Why come to this one?”

Arya shut her eyes and gave her head a small shake.  “Because it’s yours.”

Gendry turned back to face her.  His eye was skeptical.  Assessing.  Like he couldn’t decide what trick she was playing.  He must have decided because he raised his brows and gave a small nod.

“Thinking you won’t be coming back again, yeah?”

Arya stared at him mutely.

He sniffed and set his hands on his hips.  She could see his collarbone above the neck of his dirty smith shirt.  He saw her looking.

“That’s what it is.  One more End-of-the-World lay, then?”  He blew air out of his nose like an angry bull.  She almost smiled.

“Gendry –”

“Was it the title that did it?”

“What?”

“Did you only want me because I was there?  Or did you only _stop_ wanting me because some dead queen made me a lord?”  Gendry clarified.

Arya balked.  She knew she’d broken his heart, but she thought she’d explained herself when she’d turned down his proposal.  There was no good way to reject someone you love, but she had done her….  _Love_?

Gendry was staring at her with his sea blue eyes.  She tried for the right words.  Better words than she’d evidently given him their last night in Winterfell.  She was coming up empty.

Gendry looked like he might cry.  Or scream.  He shut his eyes tight and put his back to her again.  “So it’s just me then.”

“What’s just you?”

Gendry covered his eyes with his hand.  “You know damn well what.  I thought girls were supposed to be more emotional when it came to fucking.”

Arya startled at his coarse words.  Of course she’d heard coarser, but never from Gendry.  Not since he’d learned she was a girl.  And almost never since he’d learned she was a highborn. 

“You’re one to talk.”  She muttered.  “Did you propose to those three other girls, too?”

“Why would I?” He said almost on a whisper.

Arya shrugged, though he was still turned away from her and couldn’t see.  “We lay together once and you proposed to me.  You might have lain with those other three more often.  If they turned you down then, you might go back and have better luck.  Tell them you’re a lord with a –”

“THEY WEREN’T YOU!” He bellowed, spinning on his heel to face her.  The hall crackled from his shout.

Arya met his eye evenly.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to run.  She wanted to hold him until he didn’t hate her anymore.  She worked at controlling her emotions.  Something ordinarily easy, but near impossible whenever she was with Gendry.

For the first time, she dropped her eyes first.  “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No.  I suppose you shouldn’t have.” Gendry agreed.  It made her whole chest hurt to hear him say that.  And that made her angry.

“You could have said no at any time, you know.  You could have told me to stop.  You could have left.  You didn’t _have_ to.”  She told him.

Gendry snorted at her.  All bull.  “Hard for anyone to ever tell you no, isn’t it Lady Stark?”

“Don’t –”

“Don’t what?  Huh?  Don’t _what_?  You’re a lady like it or not.  You always have been and you always will be because that’s what you were _raised_ as.  Just like me.  I might live in a fancy castle, but I’m still at my forge day and night because I can do beggar all lord shit, but I can damn well work a forge because _that’s_ what I was raised as, _My Lady_.”

“If you weren’t so bloody stubborn you might _learn_.  You think I was _raised_ to kill the Night King?  To be a swordsman?  No!  I _learned_.  I learned however I could from whoever I could.  You could do the same if you wanted to.  You’re just happier in your forge and that’s why your castle looks like shit.  _My Lord_.”

Gendry let out an animalistic growl.  “Has it ever _once_ occurred to you that maybe there was only one good thing I ever saw in a lordship?  Barring that, I’d rather be a smith in some rundown shop the rest of my days anyway.”

Arya frowned.  She thought a lordship was right up Gendry’s alley.  _He_ was the one that always made a big deal about her title and status.  She had never cared for them.  She couldn’t even sit through all the lessons about banners and house words and allegiances.  The only banners she cared for were House Starks.  The only words she cared for were the ones her father told her.  But she knew Gendry’s.  Not just because his father was her father’s best friend, but because his having a house was important to him.  Having a sigil and house words were important to him.

“I thought you wanted to be a lord.  Wanted to rule your own castle.  You always made such a big deal out of it.”

Gendry gave her a strange look.  He walked away a ways and pulled a dusty chair out of the shadows.  He sat down in it heavily and put his head in his hands.  Arya hadn’t really expected so much of a fight.  She thought he’d either throw her out or take her to bed.  This hadn’t been on her agenda.

“What was the one good thing?” Arya asked, hesitantly.

Gendry shook his head and didn’t look at her.  “If you don’t already know there’s no point in me telling you.”

She could tell all the fight had gone out of him.  For some reason, that scared her more than his shouting.  At least if he was angry with her it proved he still cared.  And Arya hated that she was still wanting him to care about her.  Hadn’t she done him enough damage?

She sniffed.  “My ship leaves port tomorrow with the tide.  You can forget all about me as soon as you’d like.  I’ll never darken your door again.” 

Arya sniffed again and fought against the heat in her eyes.  The tears threatening to fall because Gendry really might forget her.  And that thought _hurt_.  It hurt like nothing she had ever felt before.  A burn that started at her center and spread until it was suffocating.  She turned for the blackened corridor to leave.

“Forget you?” Gendry said to the floor.  “Could I ever?”  She knew he was looking at her.  She was turned away, but she knew.   “Can you forget me?  Am I so little to you?”  Gendry only paused a second before answering himself for her.  “Of course you could.  And you will.  You’re so much more than I could ever be.  Two of your siblings wear crowns.  It wasn’t the title.  It wasn’t the lordship.  It really was just me.”  He stood up, the legs of the chair scraping against the stone.  “I’m not enough for you.  I never will be.”

“Gendry –” Her next words were caught on a sob.  She covered her face with her hands and took a deep, shaking breath.  “I can’t give you what you want.”  She said as she calmed herself.  “You want a lady in your castle.  A mother for your children.  You want someone I’m not.  I don’t want to stay inside four walls my whole life.  That’s why I’m sailing west.  No castles, no walls to hold me.  Just the open sea and whatever lays on the other side of it.”

Arya scrubbed the criminal tears from her cheeks and took another deep breath.  She was horrified to have cried at all.  She was glad none of her shipmates were there.  It had taken her a week before leaving and three days at sea to gain a modicum of respect from them.  If they ever saw her cry she’s lose it all.

“Free, but not safe.  There’s dangers at sea.  Dangers everywhere.  Holdfasts have walls because it’s safer.”

“King’s Landing had walls.  How safe were all those people there?” Arya challenged.  “Dangers are everywhere.  I might as well have a bit of fun while waiting for the lightning to strike.”

Gendry stood behind her now.  Close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.  It sent chills down her back and made her flesh hum with need.  Need for something she could not have again.

“I never wanted much my whole life,” he started.  “Food in my belly, maybe.  A warmer blanket.  Sometimes I would think about a smithy of my own.  But if I ever really _wanted_ something.  Wanted something that wasn’t necessarily about survival, well that comes down to one thing.  The same thing that made me care about titles and lordships and castles.  And it’s not even a thing.”

Arya turned around slowly.  Her face met with his chest.  She could smell the smoke and sweat on him.  Smoke that should have brought her back to King’s Landing.  Should have made her think of the mother and her daughter, but instead she could only think of the storeroom behind the Winterfell forges.  She tipped her head up to meet his eyes.

“Have you ever wanted something like that?  Something not for survival or revenge, but something you wanted because your whole being said you needed it.”  He asked and his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes.” She said, her voice just as quiet.  She had wanted something just like that the night of the Battle for the Dawn.  She had wanted it so badly she dropped everything for it.

Gendry nodded.  “Will you tell me?”

Arya stared up at him.  In the dark, his eyes looked black.  Endlessly deep.  She could fall into them forever.  She reached up for his face, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.  She stared at him.  She could feel the heat of his hand through her leathers.

“Tell me.” He said again.

Arya swallowed.  She could feel her heartbeat in her ears.  She wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to break his heart again.  She didn’t want him to hate her anymore.  She wanted to hear him say he loved her again.  Even just one more time.  She had never been happier than when he’d said it that last horrible night.  And never sadder when she couldn’t say it back to him.

_“Go home, girl.  You come with me, you die here.”_

Arya’s eyes heated again.  Gendry kept hold on her wrist with one hand and brought the other up to cup her cheek.  His calloused fingertips grazed her skin so softly.  She felt her heart stuttering.  She wanted to kiss him.  She wanted to feel him again.  Everywhere.  She _wanted_ ….

“You.” She breathed.

Gendry smiled.  She tugged her wrist from his hand and grabbed his face between them and pulled him down.  She crushed her lips against his.  Gendry let her kiss him a few seconds.  Not long enough to satisfy her, but longer than she thought to get.  He pushed her back and stepped away.

She stood alone.  Her whole body was shivering.  Not from cold or fear, but from a want so deep she could feel it in her bones.  There weren’t any sacks of grain around, but the table didn’t look _too_ uncomfortable.  _Gods_ , how was she going to last the rest of her life never being touched by him again?  To only have that one night to remember it all.

Gendry grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the castle.  She let him lead her.  There was nothing much to the castle anyway.  Not many places to get lost at least.  And no servants or furniture to trip over.  He led her up an enormous case of winding stairs.  They wrapped the whole tower.  Arya thought there must have been a million of them.  Huge and winding ever upward.

On the seaward side, the tower was pitch black.  Gendry held her hand tighter on that side.  The side facing the Curtain Wall at least had windows.  Even as small as they were, they let in enough light to see by.  And still they traveled upward.  Ever in silence because what was left there to say?

At long last, they came to a great wooden door with iron bars.  Gendry pushed the door open and led her into the lord’s chambers.  An impressive apartment with a wide window on one side singlehandedly responsible for all the light in the room at large.  Arya could see bits of half-forged armor strewn across the floor.  Even a sword or two he’d obviously been too sleepy to remember to leave in the forge before heading to bed.

The bed was monstrous.  A truly ridiculous size even for a lord’s bed.  Arya bet herself twenty people could fit on the mattress.  She frowned at her memories of the Baratheons.  She supposed if any lords would have ridiculously large beds, it’d be the stags. 

Then came the mad thought in Arya’s head.  _How many women has he had in this bed_?

Gendry stepped behind her.  His warm hands slid around her waist to her belt.  He slipped it off and settled it on a table beside a half made breast plate.  His lips grazed her neck and Arya rolled her head to the side to give him better access.  His fingers started at the ties on her tunic.  She set her hands on her pants, but Gendry’s hands were over hers in an instant.

“Don’t.” He growled, his voice thick and harsh in her ear.  “Not this time.”

He pulled her tunic down her shoulders and went back for her undershirt.  Arya tried to turn around to face him.  She wanted to kiss him.  Taste him like he was tasting her.  Gendry’s strong hands kept stopping her.  He was keeping her turned away from him even as he slowly and deliberately rid her of each article of clothing.

When she was standing completely naked, Gendry disappeared from her.  She spun around to catch him, but he was already across the room.  His shirt was off, the little patch of black curls on his chest made her belly twist.  She started for him, but he looked up at her and she froze.  Her breathing became harsher.  She didn’t just _want_ him.  She _needed_ him.

Gendry ran a wet washcloth over his face, neck and chest.  A droplet of water ran drop his chest all the way to his breaches before disappearing.

“I like you dirty.” Arya told him.

Gendry gave her a wry smile.  He dropped the cloth half in the water bowl and half on the table.  He set his hands on his ties as he moved.  Easy, practiced motions undoing the knots he tied there.

“Is that so?”

Arya grabbed for him again.  He caught her arms easily as he dropped his pants around his ankles.  He brought her arms down to her sides and Arya was forced to acknowledge just how strong he really was.  Gendry stepped out of his pants and leaned his face closer to her.  If she could just elongate her neck another half inch she’d be kissing him.

“Youi really should have seen me after the battle with the white walkers.  I was downright filthy.” He teased, but Arya could hear a bite of hurt beneath the tone.

“Gods, Gendry, _please_!” She begged.  She was naked in his bedroom and he wouldn’t _touch her._

Gendry pressed his forehead against hers, purposefully keeping his lips just out of her reach.  “Please what?”  He asked all innocence.

“Kiss me.  Touch me.  _Fuck_ me.  Please.”

Gendry frowned then.  He moved her arms so the he could hold both her wrists in one hand.  All joking gone from his face.  Arya’s body screamed.  He shook his head.  “You aren’t a whore.” He told her.  He reached up with his free hand and smoothed a few stray hairs from her face.  His fingertips caught her bottom hip and she wanted to scream.

“I don’t care.”

Gendry pet his fingers over her lips, cheeks, jaw.  They traveled down her neck to her chest.  He used his whole hand then.  The rough callouses setting her skin ablaze.  He squeezed her breast and flicked her nipple with his thumb.  Arya shut her eyes.

“Let me go.” Arya told him, pulling at her wrists in his hand.  Just then, Gendry’s free hand found her sex.  She let out a gasp and pressed her forehead more firmly against Gendry’s.  She twisted her wrists in his hold, spreading her legs a bit more for him.  “Gendry, let go of my hands.”

Gendry kissed her lightly.  Barely more than a peck.  She chased those lips.

“Will you run away?” He murmured.

“I want to touch you.”

Gendry brought her hands to his face.  He kissed each of her fingers before freeing her wrists and gripping her by her butt to haul her up onto his hips.  Arya grabbed his face between her hands again and held him still as she tasted his lips until she felt the coil in her belly start to loosen.

She fell backward until she hit something soft.  Arya blinked up at him.  His mouth moved to her breasts.  Where his fingers once tantalized her, his tongue and teeth left her breathless.  She dug her fingers into his scalp and set her legs on either side of him.  It wasn’t enough.

“Gendry, now.” She ordered.

Gendry pulled his head back and grinned at her.  “Spoiled little rich girl.  No patience at all.”

Arya grabbed his ears and pulled his head up so that he was looking her straight in the eyes.  “I swear to the old gods and the new if you don’t –”

Gendry kissed her stealing away her empty threats.  His fingers dipped inside of her and she moaned into his mouth.  Gendry took her hand in his and curved it around his thick cock.  She gave it a stroke and smiled against his mouth when she felt the wet tip against her palm.  She lined his cock up with her opening.  If only he would move his damn fingers.  They felt incredible, but his cock would feel so much better.

Arya whimpered into his mouth.  She tried again and again to push him over, but Gendry was determined to stay on top of her.  Arya knew it for what it was.  A show of power.  A sort of ‘two can play that game’ move.  Arya couldn’t fault him for it.  His strength was one of the biggest attractions for her.  The sheer size of his arms….  She ran her free hand over his bicep and deltoid almost lovingly.

Gendry pulled his fingers from her and took her hand on his cock away.  She twisted her mouth away to protest when he surged into her in one deft stroke.  Arya let out a delirious cry of fulfillment and relief.   She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, keeping him still inside her for just a moment.

She didn’t last long as soon as he started moving.  He had her trembling beneath him after the third or fourth stroke.  His lips still grazed her skin.  Every second or third stroke his mouth would find hers again and she would kiss him back eagerly.  Gendry pulled himself from her completely after one last stroke and spilled his seed over the scars on her belly.

Arya drooped back into the pillows.  Her eyes fluttering shut for just a second.  The bed dipped and Arya opened them again to see where he’d gone.  He picked up the washcloth and wiped away the cum from his cock.  He tossed the washcloth to her while he poured wine into to cups.

Arya cleaned her belly and sat up as he came back over with the wine.  He handed her one and sat beside her on the edge of the bed facing the window.  Arya took a sip and grimaced.

“Ugh,” she set the cup on the bedside table, “Where’d you get that wine?”

Gendry took a sip from his own cup and frowned.  “From the basements.  Loads of alcohol here.  Not all of it’s good.  And I think that cup might’ve had some leftover ale in it before I filled it.”  Arya wrinkled her nose.  “Mine had mead in it.  Kind of gives it a crunchy taste.”

Arya shook her head.  “That’s disgusting.”

Gendry shrugged.  “Maybe Sansa should run Storm’s End.  Then you’d always have a clean cup to drink from.  And better wine.”

Arya shook her head.  “Sansa’s Queen in the North now.  And I’m sailing west anyway.”

Gendry nodded.  “I remember.”

Arya suddenly felt guilty as she remembered his words from the hall.  “You aren’t just an end-of-the-world lay.”  She said then scowled at the idiocy of what she’d just said.

“That’s good to hear.”  He had gone back to being distant.

Arya sat up and reached out to him.  Midway, she thought about retreating, but she might never get the chance to touch him again.  She felt the hard muscle of his arm under her hand.  He looked over at her a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“The Hound was right, you are a she-wolf.” He joked.  “Hungry again?”

Arya smiled wistfully and leaned her head against his shoulder.  She grazed her fingers up and down his arm until he was covered in goosebumps and every hair on his body was standing on end.  She turned her head and set her teeth against the meatiest part of his shoulder.  She gradually bit down harder and harder until Gendry finally gave a gasp and flinched away.  His hand came up to hold the back of her head.

“Ow.” He accused.  “Is this the thanks I get?”

Arya took his cup out of his hands and set it on the floor before swinging her leg over his lap to straddle him.  His hands went to her waist at once.  Now he looked up at her.  She smiled proudly.

“Do you _want_ thanks?” She asked, kissing his neck. 

His cock jumped between them.  His hands gripped her butt as she ground herself against him.  He groaned so low it sounded almost like a wolf’s growl.  Wolf, stag, bull, did it _really_ matter?  Arya let out a moan of her own as she pushed herself down him.  _Nothing really matters when he’s inside me_.

“Gods, Arya.” He gasped.  He made to lift her.  Move her. 

Arya twisted her hips.  “Spoiled little lord.  So impatient.”  She nipped at his bottom lip before sucking it between her teeth.  Only once she released it did she start to move.

Arya had him twice more before the sun came up the next day.  She was already going to hell.  She may as well earn her stay. 

Gendry slept quietly beside her when she woke.  Arya rolled from the bed and set about dressing as quietly as she could.  There was no reason for another harsh goodbye.  Not when the first did so much damage.  She fixed her belt over her waist and checked that Needle and Cat’s Paw were where they were meant to be.

Her brown squirrely horse was brought out of the stables.  If anything, the horse was more nervous in the early morning than it had been the previous afternoon.  Arya tried to soothe the animal as best she could before she mounted.  It didn’t do much.

Arya steered her mount through the gates on the Curtain Wall and started for port.  Her loins still sang with the pleasure of the night before.  Her hair was down from its tightly braided bun.  She hoped none of her men would question it.  At least not where she could hear.  She would hate to start taking away body parts.  She had decided early on that she would start with toes.  Once she started taking fingers, their usefulness would dry up.

Moryn greeted her on the deck of the ship.  He gave her a once over, but said nothing about her appearance.  Overhead, thunder rumbled.  She could hear Moryn shouting, but his words were taken away by the wind.  The sea had grown loud.  She leaned towards him to try and catch what he was saying.

“What?” She yelled.

Moryn leaned into her ear.  “Can’t set sail today.  Ship’ll go down before we make it out of the bay.”  He screamed.

Arya looked out at the water.  It was nearly black and swirling so violently she completely understood why it was called Shipbreaker Bay.  Arya looked back to the fist of Storm’s End.  Gendry was surely awake by then.  He’d likely already noticed her absence.

The storm gave them no choice.  They started down the gangplank for the inn.  The skies opened around them as their feet hit the shore.  Moryn pulled his cloak up over his head and began to walk faster.  Arya let him go.  The rain was harsh and unforgiving, but the things she had done were unforgivable.

The inn was warm and dry and full.  The innkeeper announced that he had no more rooms available.  She _could_ try and make her way back to Storm’s End.  Gendry would probably let her back in his bed another night or two.  Just the thought made her body ache for him.  She turned to Moryn.

“Have _you_ got a room?”

“I....”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Moryn dropped his head.  “Yes.  Same one from last night.  We knew this storm was coming.  I would’ve gotten you one, too, Cap, but you rode off somewhere so I figured you didn’t need one.”

Moryn started to dig in his pocket for his room key.  His face looked miserable.  Thunder shook the inn just then.  Arya thought the entire port town was doomed to fall into the bay.  _The port town may do, but Storm’s End is made of stronger stuff_.

“Keep your room.” She told her first mate.  “I’ll make do.”

Arya took up residence in front of the fire.  Most of her crew had piled into the inn and they moved out of her way when they saw her coming.  A good portion of the men were northerners.  People who had seen and fought the army of dead men.  People who knew what she was capable of.

Arya stared at the fire and listened to the storm rage on outside.  Every time the walls shook, Arya had to fight her way back out of King’s Landing.  The fire was warming her, but it wasn’t making it any easier.  After one especially loud boom of thunder, Arya could swear she heard Drogon scream.  A chill ran down her back.

It turned out, what she thought was a dragon scream was just the door to the inn being opened.  She heard the innkeeper speaking to someone excitedly.  Arya decided to focus on that instead of the fire and the storm.

“-biggest room, I assure you.  Always keep one open for the lords.  Always the nicest one.”

“I don’t need anything fancy.”

Arya’s jaw tightened.  _What is he doing here?_   She sank lower into her chair praying he hadn’t already seen her.  She chewed at her lip and listened for his footsteps. 

“Make way!  One of you cretins best give up your chair!” The innkeeper barked.  “This is the Lord of Storm’s End here.”

One of her northern crewmen who had claimed the seat closest the fire leapt to his feet.  He smiled at Gendry and reached out to shake his hand.  Gendry smiled back at him.  He didn’t sit down straight away.  A few more of the northerners moved to greet him and Arya remembered that Gendry had _armed_ these men.

“Looky, here, Lord Baratheon!”  One of her crew, a northern fisherman from the Saltspear named Patrek, cried.  Gendry looked.  Patrek held up a dragon glass axe proudly.  It looked just like the one he’d shown her the morning before the battle.  The one he’d slammed into the stump with all the strength of a bull.

“Expecting many white walkers on the high seas?” Gendry asked him.  “You know they can’t swim, yeah?”

Patrek laughed and tucked the axe back into his belt.  “Your work’s so fine it does just as much damage against the living as it does the dead.”

“We all kept ‘em.” One of the other northerners boasted.  “Happens you made all of ours.”

“Black Swords.” Moryn snarled beside her.  He wasn’t a northerner.  He was a Dornishman from Salt Shore.  An expert sailor who had never seen nor truly believed in the Others.  Fantasy nightmares to warm the cold, northern children was what he and most southerners believed.  They called the crewmen who wielded dragon glass weapons Black Swords even though most of them wielded axes and maces.

“Captain Stark has her dagger still.  The one she used to knife the bastard king right in the heart.” Patrek told Gendry.

Gendry’s eyes found her then.  A strange twinkle in his eye that she handed over to a trick of the fire.  He settled into the chair offered to hi and tilted his head at her.  She looked around at her crew.

“I seem to recall fashioning you a weapon, too.” Gendry told her.

Moryn looked from Gendry to Arya.  He knew what she had done, of course.  The Black Swords wouldn’t let anyone forget it or go unawares.  But Arya never wore any blades save Cat’s Paw and Needle.

“Must have left it in the North with the dead men.” She told him coolly.

Gendry’s lips twitched.  He leaned back in his chair and looked over at the fire.  “More’s the pity.  I worked hard on that.”

In truth, the spear sat below deck in her cabin on _Nymeria_.  She had found it in the aftermath and hidden it away in a chest in her room.  Sansa had brought the chest south with her and Bran.  Not that Arya would tell Gendry any of that.

“Why are you here?” Arya asked.  Her men looked at her curiously.  She cleared her throat.  “I mean, why are you at an inn instead of your castle, My Lord?”

Gendry was fighting his grin.  “Food’s better here.”  He told her.  Arya understood then.  What the innkeeper had said when he arrived about always keeping a spare room for him.  Gendry didn’t have kitchen servants.  He had no food at his castle.  He came to the inn to eat.  That’s why the innkeeper was unsurprised to see him in a storm.  “And my bed became remarkably uncomfortable almost overnight.”  Gendry continued.

Arya stared at him emotionlessly.  He frowned into the fire.

“Not feathery enough, M’lord?” Patrek asked.  “Weren’t you sleeping on barrels in the forge less four months ago?”

Gendry gave him a shrug.  “Might be it’s the draft of an empty castle.”

“Countrymen are slow to return after a war.” A man from Seaguard said.

Conversation carried through the inn.  The cook brought food out for Gendry along with a cup of wine.  The sailors slowly trickled out of the main hall to their rooms or back to one of the two brothels standing in the port.  Moryn was the only one to stay.

Gendry looked between the Dornishman and Arya as he sipped his wine.  Arya wished she was less aware of him.  Of everything he did down to the tiniest movement.  Moryn was talking to her about sailing after the storm and she could hardly focus.

“Sunspear has an abundance of fruits.  There is a woman called. Jynessa Sand who puts fruit trees in crates with dirt so they grow fresh fruit on long voyages.  We should buy a tree or two from her before we leave.  Stopping at Sarfall would add another week before Oldtown.  Maybe more.  We could go straight through.  Stores should be just about full by the time we leave Sunspear anyhow.” Moryn was saying.

“I’m not in a hurry.  We have time.  I want to stop in Greenstone before Sunspear anyway and that’ll be another two days already.”

“Greenstone?  What’s in Greenstone that we couldn’t get in Sunspear?”

Arya shrugged.  “I’m sure there’s something.”

“And now you’re set on Evenfall?”

“I already told you I planned to stop at all the major ports along the coasts before we set out.  I keep you around for your ship savvy, not so you can question my decisions.”

Moryn was quiet for a bit.  “What do you suppose about Jynessa Sand and her portable fruit trees?”

“Where would we keep trees on a ship?”

Moryn shrugged.  “The deck I’d expect.  They still need sun.”

“Did you manage to buy any animals?”

Gendry shifted in his seat and sipped his wine.  Very obviously listening to their conversation.

“I bought a sow fat with babies.  Should do us a while, I’d expect.  And….” Moryn glanced at Gendry.  “Bought three sheep.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at her first mate.  “I do not want any stolen animals on my ship.  Give them back to the farmer.”

Moryn grimaced.  “Wasn’t any farmer there.  Just sheep left out in a field.”

Arya stared at the man until he relented.

“Fine.  I expect there’s sheep to buy in Oldtown.” He pouted.

Arya glanced at Gendry then back to Moryn.  “It’s getting late.  Perhaps you should get some sleep.”  She suggested.

Moryn nodded and got to his feet.  He looked between Arya and Gendry.  He turned back to Arya and scratched at his scruffy beard innocently.  “Since you don’t have a room of your own, Captain, I was thinking you might take mine.  Or we could even share it.”  Moryn suggested.

Arya stared up at him blankly.  Moryn was building up the confidence to ask her again.  She could see it.  She really hoped he didn’t make her kill him.  He really knew his way around a ship.

“The seas can get lonely, you know.  That’s why the sailors run to the brothels every time we touch the shore.  With a journey of this magnitude, we may not see a brothel for months if not longer.  Even women have needs.”  Moryn told her.

Arya narrowed her eyes and gave him a slight smile.  “My needs have been met.  If the men get needy enough, be sure to tell them they can slake themselves with each other.”

Moryn opened his mouth again, but Gendry had started laughing.  Moryn snapped his mouth shut and glared at the Lord of Storm’s End.  It only made the idiot bull laugh harder.  Arya got to her feet.  Moryn wasn’t much taller than she was.  She’d found most Dornishmen to be similarly built. 

“Goodnight, Moryn.” She told him dismissively.  Moryn gave her one more lustful gaze before stomping off to his room.

Arya walked over to Gendry and flicked his ear.  Gendry smiled up at her and grabbed her wrist.

“It wasn’t that funny.” She told him.

Gendry set his other hand on her thigh.  She felt a creeping warmth spreading through her.  Something she thought she’d cured herself of four times over the night before.

“Tell me, do you break hearts in every port you visit?  Or is Storm’s End special?” He teased.

Arya pushed his hand away from her thigh.  “If I broke your heart so badly then why are you here?”

Gendry still held her wrist.  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.  “I didn’t say it was my heart you broke.”

Arya ran her fingers over his hair.  It was growing longer.  Softer.  He’d even started to regrow his goatee.  Gendry blinked slowly up at her.  If the innkeeper weren’t still in the room, she would have kissed him.

“You know, if you had stayed I could have told you about the storm.  You wouldn’t have to worry about not having a room here.”

“You don’t have food in your castle.” Arya reminded him.

Gendry arched a brow at her seductively.  “There are other things to eat.”

“You’re worse than Moryn.” Arya complained.

Gendry narrowed his eyes up at her.  “Have you _had_ Moryn?” He demanded.

Arya slid into his lap.  She pushed him back into the chair and set her hands on either side of his face.  She moved close enough that her lips grazed his when she spoke.  “And if I had?”

Gendry’s fingers dug into the backs of her thighs.  “Then I’d say there’s no way I’m worse than him and I think I proved it four times over last night.”

Arya smiled and kissed his jaw before leaning into his ear.  “Maybe I need a reminder.”

She felt Gendry’s need through his pants.  He pushed her back and stood out of his chair.  He looked out the windows at the raging storm and pulled her up the stairs toward his room.  Arya was already pulling at the ties of her tunic before they’d even reached the door.

* * *

 

 The storm lasted three days.  Three blissful days she spent holed up with Gendry until she wasn’t certain she had any legs let alone sea legs.  She had thought to grow tired of it after a time, but every time they finished all she wanted was more.

Gendry never told her he loved her again.  He didn’t once beg her to stay in Storm’s End.  Never did he suggest she might do as a lady rather than a ship’s captain.  The only thing he ever asked was for her to come back to bed again.

When the storm lifted and Moryn confirmed that _Nymeria_ was set to go, she expected Gendry to make any attempt to stop her leaving.  Instead, he had disappeared without a word.  Arya swallowed back the pit that had formed in her throat.  The cloying need to see him again.  To feel his skin on her skin.  Every step she took up the gangplank felt like adding brush to her pyre.

She looked for him as the ship pulled out into the bay.  She thought she might see him riding back to his castle now he’d had his fill of her.  But the coastline was as empty as his castle.  Arya turned her attention back to the sea.  There were more important things on the horizon.

None of the ports held as much interest for her after Storm’s End.  They filled _Nymeria_ with food and animals.  She bought five trees from Jynessa Sand in Sunspear.  Two were apple trees, two were orange trees, and one was a peach tree she had only bought because it was already bearing fruit and it was cheaper than buying the plucked peaches in the market.

The few hours Arya would spend in her cabin went to thoughts of Gendry.  The occasional nightmare would still creep in.  Sometimes it was King’s Landing and sometimes it was Winterfell, but it was always Gendry.  The woman and child were replaced with Gendry and a baby and try as she might he always slipped from her fingers.  Sometimes she would hear him whisper as he fell beneath the blaze, “You let go.”  Arya would wake in a cold sweat. 

On the nights that it was Winterfell, Gendry would take Bran’s place at the Weirwood.  She would run for him, hacking her way through a wall of dead men who all bore familiar faces.  Several times, she’d had to face her father.  Only this Ned Stark had bright blue eyes and his skin was falling off in chunks.  When she stabbed him with her dragon glass spear, it felt as if she were stabbing her own heart.  And still, she could not save Gendry.

By the time they reached Oldtown, Arya could hardly bear to see Westeros.  She could feel the gods watching her.  The faster she sailed west the better.   Out of the reach of gods and men.  Brandon the Shipwright had sailed the Sunset Sea.  She’d heard the story as a child when Theon Greyjoy had boasted the size of the Iron Fleet and Robb had told him about the Northern Fleet.  Arya thought the ships still stood until her father had patiently explained how grief for his father had led his son, Brandon, to burn the shipyards.  Nobody would burn ships for Arya.

Arya went to the Citadel their final day in Oldtown.  Their final day in Westeros, truly.  She supposed that was why they had spent four days lollygagging on the shore with her crew.  They were saying goodbye.

Arya had heard about the library at the Citadel all her life.  The place where all the maesters trained.  The largest library in the world.  At least, that they knew of.  Arya wanted to see it.  The walls were white marble.  The steps were worn in all the places commonly tread upon.  Arya pushed the massive door open.  It reminded her of the House of Black and White. 

A maester sat behind a large desk reading from a tome.  Arya approached the desk and waited.  The man did not look up.

“Excuse me.”

“Women are not permitted.” The maester told her without looking up.

Arya narrowed her eyes at the man’s bent head.  She fingered Cat’s Paw.  “I think you’ll find it hard to keep me out.”

The maester gave a great sigh like the worst thing in the world was to have to pay attention to her.  He tilted his head back and peered down his nose at her.  Arya smiled.

“I do not care what lord is your father or where you come from.  The rules have stood thousands of years.  They will not bend for you.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head to the side.  “I’m Arya Stark.”

She caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes.  She smiled wider.

“That’s right.  _That_ Arya Stark.  I’ve only come to peruse the library for an hour or two and I’ll be out of your hair.  Unless you turn me away.”

“Sister to the King or not, women are not permitted.” The maester insisted stubbornly.

Arya withdrew Cat’s Paw slowly.  Ensuring that he saw.  “That’s fine, then.  I can be a boy if I need to be.”  She flicked her eyes up to him.  “I could be you.  Would you like to give me your face?”

The maester was babbling incoherently when another measter came through a door behind him and hurried forward.  Arya spun her dagger in her hand lazily as she waited.  The new maester showed the desk maester a scroll before addressing her.

“I apologize for the terrible rudeness of Maester Rol.  I have just received word from King Bran that you are to be given every hospitality of the Citadel for the duration of your visit.”  The new measter professed.

Arya arched her brow.  “I only want to see the library.”

The new maester nodded emphatically and led her inside.  Arya slipped the scroll from the maester’s robes as she followed him.  The library was everything she could have imagined it to be.  The room was bright and filled with tome and tome of histories and stories.  She moved through the bookshelves idly.  She could hear the maesters whispering around her.

Discreetly, she unrolled the pilfered scroll and read it curiously.

_Archmaester Theobald,_

_My sister, Arya, is coming to see the Citadel’s library before she sets sail on the Sunset Sea.  Your ancient rules dictate no women may enter the Citadel.  I urge you to forget this.  Should you provoke her, the Six Kingdoms will be woefully without maesters._

_She wears a sword and dagger on her hip.  If the dagger is in her hand, you have only a moment to prevent bloodshed._

_Brandon Stark_

_King of the Six Kingdoms and the Andals Sixteenth of his name_

Arya frowned.  She had only been playing.  She flipped the paper over and noticed more writing on the back.

_Don’t go below deck until the moon is at its height in the sky._

Arya twisted her mouth at her brother’s meddling.  She was of a mind to go straight to her cabin the moment she left the Citadel.  She rolled the scroll back up and slid it into Archmaester Theobald’s robes while he was arguing with a cluster of maesters.  Whatever he’d said had managed to get her into the library.

“A Song of Ice and Fire.” She read aloud.

“That one is the history of the recent wars, My Lady.” Archmaester Theobald explained.  “Archmaester Ebrose finished it himself.”

Arya frowned and flipped through it on the table.  “What do a bunch of stuffy old men know about wars?” She muttered.  She came to the page about her father’s execution.  “This is wrong.”

“Pardon?”

“It says the Mountain took my father’s head.  It wasn’t.  It was Ser Ilyn Payne with Ice.  And this says that I fled back to Winterfell before the execution.  I didn’t.  I was there when they took my father’s head.  Yoren took me away from the capital.”  She looked up at the cluster of maesters and archmaesters coldly.  “This isn’t the history of anything.  It’s lies and make believe.  You’re teaching lies.”

“My lady, all the reports have been thoroughly compiled.” Archmaester Theobald tried.

Arya picked the book up off the table and flung it over the bannister to drop three stories down.  “My brother can write a better history.  Maybe your historians should talk to him before they spread more lies.”

Arya broke through the maesters and left the Citadel without a backwards glance.  Greatest library in the world her ass.  Not when all their books were filled with lies made up by crusty old men who’d never seen a day of true battle in their miserable lives.

Moryn had gone off to buy sheep and a boar for their sow.  Arya climbed back up to _Nymeria_ ’s deck and plucked a peach off her tree.  The winds were fair and they weren’t expecting another storm to come in the night.  The only place left to go was the Sunset Sea and beyond.  She considered going to her cabin, but Bran had told her not to.

She pulled Needle from its sheath and began to practice her water dancing on the mostly empty deck.  She would find an occasional combatant amongst her crew, but men did not often like to be bested by women.  They took to watching her instead.

Moryn came back at noon dragging two more pigs while two of the crewmen ushered a small herd of sheep up the gangplank.  Arya stowed Needle and gave the word to set sail once everyone was settled.  The crew had grown larger at each of their stops.  Not all of the new men respected her yet, but they would.  Or they wouldn’t.  Either way, Arya didn’t see them being a problem very long.

By dusk, Westeros had disappeared beneath the horizon.  By midnight, they were alone in the vast, empty sea.  Arya stared up at the moon, wondering what it was Bran had expected her to see on deck.  Her crewmen had already changed over to sleep.  Loathe as she was to admit it, she was tired too.

Arya rubbed her eyes as she tramped down the narrow stairs that led to the captain’s suite.  She unlocked her door and slipped inside.  Arya pulled the bolt into place and started on the ties to her tunic when she froze.  Her hand found her dagger and she spun for her bed.

Her brow wrinkled at what she was seeing.  It didn’t make sense.  Her mind went to her being poisoned.  Hallucinating.  Anything to explain why Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End was asleep in her bed.  In her cabin.  In her ship.

Arya kicked his foot and he snuffled noisily before sitting up and squinting at her.  She frowned at him.

“What in all seven hells are you doing here?” She demanded.

Gendry looked around as if confused about where it was he wasn’t meant to be.  He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned.

“I thought about what you said.”

Arya wrinkled her brow at him.  “What I said when?”

Gendry got to his feet and grabbed for the wall for balance.  “Whoa.  Uh, about learning.  Remember?  You said if I wanted to I could learn whatever just like you learned….” He blew a breath out through his lips and waved at her whole body.  “But I don’t want to learn to be a lord if it means living without you.  Do you remember what I said?  Back in Winterfell?”

“You always knew I was just another spoiled rich girl.” Arya repeated knowing full well that wasn’t what he was talking about.

Gendry smirked at her.  “None of it means anything if you’re not with me.  And if you won’t be with me.  I can be with you.”

Arya was finding air hard to come by.  “What about Storm’s End?  You would leave it without a lord?”

Gendry frowned and shrugged indifferently.  “Davos is sure to visit at some point and notice I’m gone.  He might even take better care of it than I did.  Or he’d find someone much better suited to the task.  I would’ve left a note, but I can barely read the few words I know let alone write a lengthy explanation for abandoning my post.”

“But you finally had everything you wanted.  A family name.  A castle.  A title.  A house sigil.”

Gendry laughed.  “Well, I s’pose I’ve always been more of a bull than a stag anyway, haven’t I?”

“You know we might die out here.” Arya insisted.

Gendry smiled at her.  “At least it’ll mean something if I’m with you.”

“I’m not the same girl you knew, Gendry.  You have to know that by now.”

Gendry moved closer to her.  “Yes you are.  You might have a few new scars.  You might be a lot deadlier, but you were always dangerous.  You were always wild.  You were always Arya.”

Arya shook her head at him.  “You can say that.  You don’t know what I’ve done.”

Gendry frowned.  “I know some of what you’ve done.”

Arya looked at the floor between them.  “I don’t mean that.  People wouldn’t cheer for the other things I’ve done.”

“Was it your list?”

Arya looked out her port window at the sea.  “I ended House Frey.”

Gendry nodded.  “Well, see?  You were wrong.  Because I did cheer when I heard about that.”

Arya wrinkled her face at him.  “What?”

Gendry swallowed hard.  “Well, I didn’t know it was you who did it.  And I still thought they had killed you alongside your mother and brother.  Of course I was glad they were dead.”

Arya gave her head a little shake.  “I fed Lothar and Black Walder to Walder Frey before I killed him.  I baked them into a pie like the Rat Cook.”

Gendry grimaced.  “Disgusting.  He actually ate them?”

“Some of them.”  Arya was being intentionally blunt.  Readying herself for when he jumped ship and swam back to Westeros.  “He might’ve eaten more if I hadn’t slit his throat.  Not too deep.  I wanted him to die slowly.”

Gendry nodded along mildly.  “Well, I heard some of what he and his house did.  They killed the young wolf’s pregnant wife first.  Arguably a more disgusting act then feeding a man’s children to him.  Admittedly not much more….  I also heard they cut Catelyn Stark’s throat so deep she was practically headless.  And Robb Stark _was_ headle –” Gendry coughed and stopped talking realizing what he was saying and who he was talking to. 

“I was there.”  Arya admitted.  It was the first time she’d told anyone.  She hadn’t even told Sansa despite her sister uncovering her faces.  Walder Frey’s amongst them.

Gendry’s brow furrowed as he looked at her.  “There?  At the Red Wedding?  In Riverrun?”

Arya nodded.  “The doors were barred when we got there.  That’s when we knew something was wrong.  At least I knew.  And maybe the Hound knew then, too, but I slipped away from him.  I thought I could do something if I could just reach them in time.  But I couldn’t.”

“Is that when you robbed him and left him to die?” Gendry asked, curiously. 

Arya shook her head.  “From there we went to the Eerie, but Petyr Baelish had already killed my Aunt Lysa.  I didn’t leave the Hound until Ser Brienne found us.  She’s the one that nearly killed him.  That’s when I left the Hound to die.”  She swallowed as she remembered his final parting words again.  “The first time anyway.”

The ship tilted against a particularly high wave and Gendry slammed into the wall trying to brace himself.  Arya arched her left brow at him.  “Have you ever _been_ on a ship before?”

Gendry straightened himself up and scratched at his stubbled jaw.  “I happen to have rowed myself all the way from Dragonstone to King’s Landing and I only halfway fell out of the boat once.” He boasted.

Arya gnashed her teeth on the inside of her lower lip trying to fight the laugh she felt bubbling.  She gave up at his firm and prideful stance.  She laughed hard.  Harder than she had in years.  It felt amazing to do it again.  Exhilarating.

“Hey!  Don’t laugh!  I’m a quick learner when it comes to the hands on stuff.  It’s all the reading and writing and thinking I’m not the best at.  It’s why I shouldn’t be a lord.”  Gendry pouted.

Arya gave him an appeasing smile.  “A row boat and a ship are not the same thing.”

Gendry shrugged.  “I’m guessing it’s the same amount of difference as forging a suit of armor and forging a sword and I can do both of those.”

Arya let out a heavy sigh.  “You don’t want to stay with me, Gendry.  Really.”

“I do want to stay with you, Arya.  Really.  Unless you’re saying you really don’t want me.  Unless you’re saying what you told me at Storm’s End was a lie.”  He looked unsure now.

Arya could lie to him, but she never had before.  She didn’t want to start now.  “It wasn’t a lie, but I’ve done terrible things.”

“So you keep saying, but I don’t care.  Even if you pillaged an entire city I’d stand behind you.  Maybe that’s stupid.  Daenerys Targaryen did that and Jon killed her for it, but I don’t think he loved her the same.  Or he loved someone or something more.  I dunno.  I couldn’t have done it and I’d have fought anyone who tried.”  Gendry frowned in thought and scratched the back of his head.

Arya was quiet.  She’d told Jon to kill Daenerys.  She still didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but she couldn’t let the woman get away with all her carnage.  With the deaths of the woman and her little girl.  It was just one more terrible thing she had done that might drive away anyone who claimed to love her.

“That’s the second time I’ve told you I loved you.” Gendry said as if he were reading her thoughts.  “And you keep chasing me away, don’t you?”

“I told Jon to kill her.  Tyrion told him, too, but I think Jon killed her because of me.”  Arya blurted.

Gendry stared at her.  He swallowed and nodded.  “You were in the middle of it all.  You saw firsthand.  Anyone would want revenge.  You spent your whole life on it.  At least that matter was settled more quickly.”

_Look at me!  Do you want to end up like me?_

“I don’t want it.” Arya said quietly.

They stood in silence for a beat.  “Me?  You don’t want me?”

“Revenge.  I don’t want revenge anymore.  Nothing good has ever come from it.” She corrected.

Gendry reached out and tapped the hilt of her dagger.  “Oh, I dunno.  You wouldn’t have learned to fight like you can if you didn’t have something to fight for.  And, hey, you managed to kill the Night King.”

Arya smiled at him again.  “You really want to come with me?”

Gendry laughed lightly.  “I dunno how many times I have to say it, but I’ll say it once more.  I want to be with you.”

Arya reached up for him, but he was already leaning down to kiss her.  She grinned as he slipped on the moving floor.  They were both topless before they made it to the bed.  Gendry fell heavily onto the mattress.  Arya laughed at him.

“Never done it on a boat before.” He mused as Arya worked her pants down her hips.

“I think the mechanics work the same anywhere.”  She kissed him again to shut him up.

Gendry pulled at her braid until her hair hung loose around her.  He tucked his fingers into the strands as he kissed her slowly.  Arya was sure to lose her mind to those kisses.  She dug her fingers into the thick muscles on his shoulders and back.  Then Gendry broke free and gave her an assessing stare.

“Have _you_ ever done it on a ship before?”

Arya rolled her eyes and slid herself down over him with a sigh.  “I have now.”

Gendry grinned and bucked his hips up against her.  Arya gasped and smiled against his mouth.  Her hands clawed at his back and arms as they worked together building one another into their climaxes.  The ship tipped again at just the right moment and Arya let out a moan.  Gendry came soon after, spilling himself onto the floor of her cabin.

There was a knock at her door a few seconds later.  “Captain?  You alright in there?”

Gendry was grinning at her arrogantly.  She covered his face with her hand and shoved him away.  “I’m fine, Moryn.  Go back to bed.”

* * *

 

 Arya spent a good deal more time in her cabin with Gendry aboard.  Something that did not go unnoticed by her crewmen.  She heard whisperings between them about her kidnapping a lord for personal pleasure.  There were other lewd comments about who else might offer her pleasure.

They died down after a month a sea when focus went to other things like when they’d next expect to see land.  Or who was cooking their next meal.  Or how the maester had mixed up their tonics and now someone’s fingers had turned purple.  Still, she’d hear the occasional snigger or proposition.  Arya did well ignoring them all.  Even when she was spying on her crew behind the bulkhead.

“Is it just lords she has a taste for, you think?” She overheard a crewman ask.

“Nah, Gared’s a Black Sword and he says that Lord thing was a peace offering after the battle.  He’s no more noble than you or me.  He was a smith, remember he made their weapons?”

“So what you’re saying is I got a chance?”  The first man leered.

Something hit the table the crewmen were sitting at.  Arya couldn’t see what it was from her hiding place behind the bulkhead, but she heard the men cowering.

The men walked quickly past her griping about someone threatening them.  “Someone said he doesn’t know how to swim.  We might do just chuck him over.”

“The fuck is a man doing on a ship when he doesn’t know how to swim?”

“I’d jump ship for a bit of ass around now.”

Arya started out of her hiding place after answers when a shout came down from above.  Arya jumped up through the hatch and headed for Moryn.  He was standing at the helm.  Arya mounted the stairs two at a time and grabbed the spyglass as he held it out for her.  She pointed it in the direction they were all facing and squinted.

There, on the horizon, was land.  It had barely been three months at open sea.  She saw smoke rising from the trees.  Small, lazy tendrils drifting into the skies.  Arya pulled the spyglass away from her face and squinted at the thin line of trees with her own eyes.  She handed the spyglass back to Moryn.

“There’s people there.”

“There’s a castle there.” Gendry said, suddenly beside her.

Arya followed his finger.  A ways to the right of the fires, a big, stone structure sat amidst the trees near the coastline.  Arya pulled her own spyglass from her belt and fixed it on the spot.  Moryn used his spyglass to do the same.  Arya stared and squinted and the ship grew closer.

“Is that…?”  Arya pulled her head back in shock and passed the spyglass to Gendry wordlessly.

Gendry peered through to the castle.  “Those look like –”

“-Stark banners.” They said together.

Moryn smacked his hand against the bittacle.  “Still says we’re going west, Captain.”

Arya frowned.  She looked up at her sails.  Each one proudly displaying the grey direwolf running on a white field of House Stark.  There was nothing changed about the banners on the western castle.  Only that they were castle banners and not ship sails.

“I had a grandfather who sailed west thousands of years ago.  Before Aegon Targaryen came with his dragons.”  Arya said.  “Everyone just assumed he died.”

“Thousands of years?” Moryn scanned the nearing coastline.  “What’ve they been doing all this time?”

Arya started down to the hull shouting for them to weigh anchor.  Gendry followed after her and Moryn, begrudgingly, after him.  She called for the men to ready a boat to show and checked to see that she had both Needle and Cat’s Paw in her belt where they belonged.

“What do you think?  They’ll see your masts and you’ll tell them you’re a Stark and they’ll welcome you with open arms?  They’ll likely kill you and take your ship.” Moryn complained as Arya and Gendry started into the boat.

“Stay with the ship, Moryn.”  Arya ordered.  Then, she popped her head over the scuppers.  “Meric!  Spit!  Let’s _go_!”  She shouted.  The two men were scrambling for their weapons and leathers as they trampled over to the lowering boat.

Gendry settled his Warhammer on the bottom of the boat and picked up a set of oars.  Patrek was already with him in the boat.  His black axe on his belt.  Moryn wasn’t much of a fighter.  He was a shipwright.  He’d spent the majority of his life on ships apprenticing much in the same way Gendry had apprenticed with Tobho Mott.  She needed her first mate on the ship moer than she needed him ashore.

They were eight by the time the boat started toward the shore.  All the men with her were strong fighters.  Four from the north including Gendry and three from elsewhere.  One man was even from Braavos, though he was no Syrio Forel.

By the time the boat rowed up to the beaches, a crowd had gathered in the trees.  Arya saw skin as dark as Daenerys’ armies and darker.  The fairer skinned people had longer faces.  Gendry leaned forward on his seat.

“Are we sure about this?” He murmured.

Arya frowned at the people.  She didn’t see many weapons among them.  A few bows here and there, but they weren’t knocked.  If they had intended to kill them, they very well could have tried while they were still stuck in the boat like sitting ducks.

She nodded.  “This should be fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys, listen.... this was intended to be a One Shot Band Aid sort of fix-it fic. And I think I sort of managed it? HOWEVER, if you guys would like more to the story I'm fairly confident I can provide something though I have yet to figure out where exactly I was planning on going with this.... ANYWAY! THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!!!!


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